


Of Cats and Their Claws

by Acherubis



Category: Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-29
Updated: 2014-01-29
Packaged: 2018-01-10 11:39:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1159274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Acherubis/pseuds/Acherubis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Anders got Ser Pounce-A-Lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Cats and Their Claws

I can't sleep.  
For hours I've been tossing and turning in bed, trying to calm myself enough to get some sleep but it just doesn't work. It's always like that the night after a nightmare. The dream is still too vivid in my mind and I am anxious about falling asleep for fear it will come back.  
With a sigh I get out of bed and put my robes back on. Maybe things will look brighter after I have raided the kitchens for a midnight snack. We've got apple pie for desert today. With a little luck, Molly, the cook, has set aside a slice of two for me. My mouth waters in anticipation. Something sweet would be nice now. It helps with the anxiety.  
Quietly, I navigate my way through the maze of hallways. I still get lost sometimes when I am looking for certain places for the Vigil is huge but I never had a problem with finding the kitchens. It is always the first place I seek out when I am new somewhere. If I learned anything at the tower it is that earning the kitchen personnel's good graces certainly has its benefits. Being the cook's best friend is the easiest way to ensure that there is always something delicious saved for you.  
When I arrive at my destination, there is light coming from inside the kitchen and I stop outside the door. It seems it's not just me suffering insomnia tonight. Carefully, I step closer and risk a peek inside. I feel my lips curving into a smile as I see the slender figure standing at the oven. My eyes wander over her backside appreciatively. Shirt and breeches suit her nicely, especially since these are quite fitting. I can't remember seeing her in anything but leather armor and this is a change I could get used to.  
I don't know if I made a noise or if she noticed my presence in any other way but suddenly she spins around, startled. Wide, fearful eyes meet my gaze out of a too pale face while her hand twitches as if she is about to reach for the dagger I can see strapped to her side. For a long moment we just stare at each other before she finds her composure again and I my smile. The frown I am so often met with settles on her forehead, her shoulders become tense.  
"What are you doing here, mage?" she asks gruffly, leaving no doubt that I am not welcome. I find myself beginning to worry. Not because of the way she greets me, that is business as usual, but because her voice is slightly hoarse and uneasy. Adding her pale face and frightened gaze it is easy to see that she's come down here basically for the same reason I did. The only difference is that she was actually woken by a nightmare instead of trying to avoid one. I can tell. I know how that feels. I don't let her know that I know, however. It will only unsettle her further. Instead I let the smile widen into a grin.  
"I couldn't sleep. Thought I'd come here, see if I can find something sweet," I answer, letting my eyes looking her up slowly and suggestively. She hates it when I do that and I know she will get angry but angry is better than frightened.  
It works like a charm and I bite my tongue not to laugh. Her lips become a tight line and her eyes flash with anger just as I knew they would. With a huff she turns away from me.  
Still grinning, I saunter into the larder to look for the apple pie. It takes me a while to sift through the generously filled boards and that's when I hear it.  
Meow.  
A tiny, feeble sound that suspiciously sounds like a cat but that can't be. There are no cats down here. Molly always sees to it that there are no animals anywhere near the food. Despite knowing that I strain my ears if I hear it again. I stand like that for at least two minutes but everything remains silent. With a shrug I continue my search, coming to the conclusion that I must have imagined it. When I finally have found the plate with not one or two but three slice of delicious apple pie – I knew I can count on my lovely Molly – I return to the kitchen where she is sitting at the table now, a mug of steaming tea in hand.  
I settle on the bench across from her and the action makes her send a disapproving look my way but that is all she does. I can't help the feeling that she is glad that she has some company now even if that company is an annoying mage. There were times when she had a hard time being in the same room with a mage not to speak of being as close to one as we are now. It is no small improvement that she allows me to sit at the same table with her and I have to admit that I am a little proud of that.  
Meow.  
There it is again, that sound, snapping me out of my reverie. My eyes dart about the room. I am fairly certain now that there must be a cat somewhere in here.  
"Did you hear that?" I ask her just to make sure.  
"Did I hear what, mage?"  
"That sound. Was that a cat?"  
She shifts in her seat, raising an eyebrow as if she thinks me utterly crazy.  
"Don't be ridiculous. There are no cats in the kitchens."  
Meow.  
Her expression turns from slightly annoyed to… what? Is that guilt? I look at her more closely and she averts her eyes as if I indeed caught her doing something forbidden.  
"Must be that damn stray again," she mutters and stands from the bench, fleeing my scrutiny. She looks around, scanning every corner. Then suddenly, she steps forward and her hand shoots out, grabbing something. When she draws back, I can see a small furry something moving in her palm. The way she holds it looks as if she is intentionally rough but I can see that it is just an act on my behalf – she can't show any weakness in front of the mage, now can she? – and that, in reality, she is very careful not to hurt the tiny, red kitten in her hand.  
"Gotcha," she says as she's returning to the table. My eyes are glued to the fuzzball in her hand who's tiny paws are wrapped around her fingers, little, white teeth playfully biting the tips. So delighted I am by the sight that I almost overhear her next words.  
"Seems you've been right. Molly's been complaining for days that there is cat-hair all around the kitchen. She'll be glad when I tell her that I finally got rid of the culprit."  
Almost. But I still must have gotten something wrong, right? She did not just say she wants to get rid of it, did she?  
No, no, I have certainly misunderstood her. She loves animals, all kinds of them. I've seen her play with one of the soldier's mabari a few days ago and she was genuinely enjoying it. I've also seen the way she treats the horses in the stables, always having a carrot or some sugar cubes in her pockets.  
"W-what did you say?" I ask but despite my firm belief that I heard her wrong I can't help my voice sounding horrified.  
She tilts her head to one side, again raising that disapproving eyebrow at me.  
"I said that I will get rid of the cat. We already have more than enough mousers around."  
I feel my heart skipping a beat. Is it possible that I have been so wrong in my estimation of her? Can she really be so cruel? Was the roughness she grabbed the kitten with not just an act but real indifference?  
When I don't give an answer she turns for the door that leads out into the courtyard. My terror leaves me momentarily frozen. It is the middle of winter; it is bitterly cold out there and when I last looked out the window the first snowflakes just began to fall. The thought of throwing the poor little thing out into that hostile weather makes me feel physically sick.  
She already has her hand on the handle when I jump into action again, grabbing her wrist more firmly than I intended to.  
"No!" I object harshly, glaring at her. "You can't do that!"  
Anger flashes in those gray-blue eyes and she struggles free of my hold with a vengeance. The kitten in her other hand curiously turns its red head from one human to the other, oblivious to the fact that we are fighting over its fate.  
"And what else would you have me do, mage?" she snaps, getting in my face. "Do you want deal with it? Fine with me! Here!"  
The kitten is shoved into my hands not too gently and it gives a protesting hiss. I instantly shield it from her sight and protectively hold it to my chest.  
"I can't believe you can be so cruel", I accuse her but all I get for an answer is a snort before she turns around and stiffly walks back to the table.  
I look at the tiny bundle again that perfectly fits into my palm and is now comfortably snuggling against me, eyes closed and purring softly and as I do I see something glistening on the floor out of the corners of my eyes. When I take a closer look, it turns out to be a small puddle of water. Someone must have recently opened the door and the puddle is the result of the snow blowing in.  
My eyes dart back to the woman at the table who is pointedly ignoring me. Her hands are playing with the handle of her tea mug and her feet are shuffling. She's obviously very nervous about something.  
A curious suspicion creeps into my thoughts and I scan the kitchen more closely.  
There. On the counter I spot a jug like the one I know Molly keeps the milk in and there… a saucer on the floor in the far corner of the room. I wonder how I did not notice these things before. It all makes kind of sense now.  
She has been the one letting the kitten in in the first place. Sure, it could have been someone else because I have no proof that she has been the only one in here the whole time but I am fairly certain it has indeed been her.  
I can see now that she never intended to harm the cat, no, she speculated on me protesting against her doing so that she could leave responsibility in my hands. It sounds kind of weird but by now I know that weird is a part of who she is. This is her strange, twisted way of giving me a gift. Everyone around here knows that I love cats, that I miss having one around and so does she and when the opportunity arose she fulfilled my wish.  
My heart flies out to her in gratitude but at the same time, I want her to pay for the shock I suffered because of her and I know exactly how I will do that.  
I walk back to the table and set the cat on the bench beside her and as she looks down at it I grab her arms, pull her up and capture her mouth in a kiss. Her body molds into me but it only lasts a second before she squeals and pushes me back forcefully. I let go of her and step back immediately but not fast enough to save my cheek from a hefty slap. It hurts like hell but it can't wipe the sardonic grin from my face. I am able to duck the next swing, though, grab the kitten and hurry out of the door, just in time to hear the tea mug shattering on the frame. A chuckle leaves my throat and the little furball tilts it's head, blue eyes watching me intently. I curl my hand around the small head and gently scratch behind the velvety ears. I keep on doing so until I am back in my room where I set the kitten down on my pillow. It immediately curls into a ball and closes its eyes.  
"I always wanted a cat by the name of Ser Pounce-a-lot," I tell the cat when I slip under the covers and make myself comfortable. "I think that's what I will call you."  
One of those blue eyes opens half way and it gives a soft sound that almost sounds like an affirmation. I smile as I close my eyes, one hand cupping Ser Pounce-a-lot's tiny body.  
I can sleep now.


End file.
